


The Waltz

by oOAchilliaOo



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28363062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oOAchilliaOo/pseuds/oOAchilliaOo
Summary: A moment at camp during the blight that turned into a moment Elissa would never forget.
Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Alistair/Warden (Dragon Age)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 20





	The Waltz

“You’ll never do it.”

“I shall.”

“I sincerely doubt it.”

“Oh? Care to place a bet on it, my dear Warden?”

She grinned. “Oh no. I’m not falling for that again, Zev.”

“What?” he said, gesturing in an attempt to make himself the picture of innocence. “It is not _my_ fault if you failed to recall that I had no coin beyond what you gave me.”

“But why on _Earth_ would I be stupid enough to take another bet _after_ realising that?” she said, accepting the bowl of stew Leliana passed her.

“Because, now, I have the coin from our previous bet.”

She paused. He made a very good point. He _had_ won their last bet and wouldn’t it be something to wipe the smug look off his face? Just _once?_

“All right then,” she agreed. “Shall we say the full thirty silver?” 

“Oh no,” Alistair drawled, approaching the fire from the nearby lake. “What are you betting on this time?”

Elissa grinned up at him as he threw himself onto the log she’d been leaning against, momentarily distracted by the way small droplets of water were falling from his hair into his eyes and down his shirt.

There was no earthly reason _why_ it should look so damn attractive, but, _Maker,_ did it.

“We’re betting on whether Zev will ever realise his dream of bedding Wynne,” she explained, relishing the slight tinge of pink that coloured his cheeks.

“ _Maker’s breath_.” He swore quietly enough that only she could hear him. Then he looked up at Zevran. “Why?”

Zevran shrugged nonchalantly, but Elissa recognised the teasing look in his eyes and braced herself, certain that she was about to see Alistair thoroughly embarrassed.

“She’s a beautiful woman with a magnificent bosom,” he declared. “How can I resist?”

“But… but, she’s _old.”_

“You say that like it’s a _bad_ thing, my friend,” Zevran drawled. “But older women are _so_ much more _experienced,_ yes?”

“That’s… That’s… Oh, forget it,” Alistair grumbled, the faintest tinge of a blush appearing on his cheeks.

She couldn’t help it, the half-disgusted, half-scandalised expression on his face was too good, and she burst out laughing immediately.

“Oh, think it’s funny, do you?” he teased, rounding on her, all trace of embarrassment gone as he grinned.

She grinned back, ready to retort, but just at that moment an ominous shadow fell over the group.

“Finished at the lake, are you?” Wynne demanded.

“Um, yes… sorry, Wynne.” He stammered, all trace of mirth gone in the face of Wynne’s glower.

“I believe I did _tell_ you I was waiting?”

“You did… I’m… Sorry.”

Wynne didn’t deign to reply; instead she offered a small huff of indignation and stalked off towards the forest. She was _just_ out of earshot when Elissa caught Alistair’s eye again and the both of them burst out laughing.

“You know, Zevran,” Elissa said, trying to regain her breath. “Now’s your chance. She’s alone, by the lake, _very_ romantic.”

“Romance is not exactly what is on my mind, my dear Warden,” Zevran drawled despite Alistair’s groan. “Do you think she is naked yet? That beautiful bosom…”

“Maker’s breath,” Alistair cursed again. “Just go and find out, will you?”

“An _excellent_ idea, my friend.” Zevran scrambled to his feet.

“No, wait… I didn’t mean…” Alistair began, but Zevran had already moved out of earshot. “I’m going to pay for that later, aren’t I?” he said to her.

“Probably.”

She leant forwards to rescue the last bit of stew from the pot before it burned and tasted even worse that it had when it was fresh. There were many things she loved about Alistair, but his cooking was definitely not one of them. She handed him the leftovers. He’d already eaten but she knew no-one else was going to touch it and he did always seem to be hungry.

While he ate, she sat beside him, gazing into the fire and letting her thoughts drift as Leliana absently strummed her lute and hummed bits and pieces of some melody or other.

Beside her, he was thinking too. She could feel it coming off him in waves. The thoughts of the future that plagued his quiet moments. It wasn’t hard to figure out what was he brooding over. Ever since Eamon had mentioned that he might have to take the throne, the possibility had understandably been on his mind. Oh, he always denied it if she asked, but by now she knew better than to take either his words or his actions at face value. Just like she knew that, if duty demanded it, if it were absolutely necessary, he’d take the throne to stop the Blight.

Not that she liked the idea of that choice being made _for_ him any more than he did.

The worst thing was knowing that as Logain’s opposition, and the last heir of the Cousland line, her voice was bound to carry some weight in Eamon’s Landsmeet. For all she knew, she could be one of the people choosing his destiny for him.

But brooding about it probably wasn’t going to do either of them any good.

“Come on,” she said, leaping to her feet and brushing the forest debris off her braies before offering him her hand. “You’re never going to be king if you don’t learn how to dance.”

“I’m not going to be - “

“Alistair,” she interrupted, cutting him off. “ _Dance_ with me.”

“Oh… _Oh_. Errrr… okay.” He clumsily rose to his feet, taking her offered hand before pulling her into an almost perfect hold. 

She blinked, surprised. "You _know_ how to dance?" 

He shot her a wicked grin, something that he should never _ever_ be allowed to do and also something that she hoped he never ever _stopped_ doing.

“Of course.” He spun her out in a move that would have been perfectly elegant if performed on the marble floor of a ballroom, but was decidedly less so on the mud of the forest floor. “I told you that when we met.”

She frowned. “You didn’t.”

He grinned again as he pulled her close; closer than necessary, in fact, which was highly distracting. “I did. You didn’t think that my offer to dance the Remigold in front of the darkspawn for you wasn’t _genuine,_ did you?”

She laughed, sinking easily into the steps her mother had painstakingly taught her despite her complete disinterest in the task. She was willing to admit, however, that she might have been far more interested had Alistair been her teacher.

She was certainly enjoying the way he held her, one arm strong as steel around her waist, calloused fingers intertwined with her own. He was so close too, almost no sign of the careful distance that _ought_ to bebetween them, for propriety's sake.

Fortunately, they were not in a ballroom.

He spun her out again and as he did she caught sight of Leliana, grinning happily at them as she sang the melody surer and stronger in order to better accompany their dancing. Elissa shook her head, grinning just as much. She had a feeling she was going to be subjected to some pretty searing questions over breakfast tomorrow. 

He pulled her back to him, but her momentary distraction over Leliana meant that her footing wasn’t as sure as it should have been, and instead of gracefully spinning back into his arms, she rather inelegantly tumbled into them.

“Whoa, and I thought _I_ was the clumsy one,” he chuckled, catching her and setting her back on her feet as if she weighed nothing at all.

She grinned up at him, adoring the way he towered over her. A little too close, if she were being honest, certainly close enough that with the barest stretch she could have reached up and kissed him.

He seemed to realise it at the same moment she did.

“Liss, I…” he began.

“Yes?” she pressed, hoping a little wildly that he was about to ask her to take that next final step in their relationship, and invite her to share his tent.

“I…um…er…”

“Yes?”

“I wanted to ask if…”

She waited with bated breath, savouring every stumbling word, every blush. It was like something out of a dream, a perfect moment…

Utterly destroyed by a very soaked Zevran squelching across the camp.

“She threw me in the lake!” he spat, pulling a strand of pondweed from his perfect blonde hair.

Alistair released her immediately, either because he was surprised at the interruption or because he didn’t want to endure Zevran’s teasing. Whatever the reason, she _missed_ the feeling of his arms around her.

“Serves you right, probably,” Leliana shot back, giving them the opportunity to pretend they’d been doing literally anything else.

As the pair of them bickered, Elissa pretended to be sorting through her pack, though she couldn’t help glancing across the campfire to share a smile with the man who was now pretending to tend to the fire.

He grinned as their gazes met and jerked his head towards the edge of the camp. She stifled her laugh and nodded. It would hardly be the first time they’d snuck away from camp to share frantic kisses in the darkness.

“I’m going to get more firewood,” he announced, to no-one in particular.

She waited a few moments, her heart hammering against her chest. Maybe when they were alone he’d finish whatever it was he’d been about to say before Zevran had disturbed them. But even if he didn’t, it was enough to just be with him.

“I’m going to check the snares,” she declared and scampered off, deliberately ignoring Leliana’s knowing smile.


End file.
